


To Forgive And To Forget.

by TheYoungDragon



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 15 years later, Butterfly fever, Coming back to power, Dany never died, Dragons, Eventual Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, F/F, F/M, Gen, I can't beleive she fucking died by just one stab wound, Magic, Naath, Not for Sansa/Jonsa fans, Slavery, Some Arya x Dany, Sort of Revenge fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-03-08 12:43:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18894886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYoungDragon/pseuds/TheYoungDragon
Summary: "High in the halls of the Kings who are gone" her daughter sang.Her voice was haunting. Reminding him of the voice of the Queen. Twirling through the reincarnated throne room, the acrid smell of the kings blood hanging fresh in the air. His body sprawled on the wooden throne of the Starks."Jenny would dance with her ghosts."Tyrion's stunted legs trembled. The princess had stopped exactly where Daenerys' body was rumoured to be. She looked towards him. Her body moved as if she didn't have a care in the world but her eyes, the ferocity in the grey pools couldn't be matched even by the lilac of the Stormborn.





	To Forgive And To Forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are reading this then thank you for choosing mine coz the site is flooded by fics. I will just try to somehow make sense of the events that transpired in the clusterfuck known as season 8. It is planned 15 years later after the events of 'The Iron Throne'  
> Daenerys never dies. Bcoz Arya was once stabbed multiple times and then she managed to swim around a city and then find a safe house. So yeah, hope you like it.

**V IS FOR VENDETTA**

 

The Summer Sun shone mercilessly above the city. Adding sweat to the usual piss and shit that it smelt of. Overpopulated. Riots being discussed in every other tavern. Japes about the bloody imp and the crippled king.

 

Still it was _safe_. Safer than outside the city where Dornishmen roamed slaughtering, reaving and devouring the country like a piece of cake. Yara Greyjoy had burned Lannisport and the Rock had fallen for the second time in history. A last gift to her Queen she had famously proclaimed. The North in turmoil as his sister's inability to form alliances started to show. And what was left of it had been claimed by the Winter's death. A fever never ever seen before rumoured to be caused by some butterflies as big as a man's head.

 

His hand was trying to come up with new methods everyday, ways to lure his king to discuss the matters of state. He wasn't interested. He was never interested. 

 

The Raven was actually surprised that they had made it so far. A drunken kinslayer for a Hand. A chainless maester as the Grand Maester. A sellsword as the Master of Coin.  And a King whose sole mission was to eradicate humanity from the lands of the west. He couldn't help the mocking smile that tugged at his lips. 

 

Sometimes he still heard Brandon Stark inside him. Trying to claw his way out. Failing every time. Falling far beneath. Almost diminished.

 

  _"Starks are hard to kill."_

 

He heard someone say. Some other place some other time. These creatures calling themselves men. They were stupid. Trapping themselves in a game of names, families and blood. Sufferings and pain was all this game brought. And still they cherished it. Delving into it's nuances. Giving up everything for it. Mastering it. Losing themselves in it. Did they ever feel how stupid they were perceived by the gods. Complaining to the gods for something they were never meant to take. Hungry for power. The power to kill, the power to rule, the power to love. 

 

_From when do they decide whom to slay? Whom to rule? Whom to love?_

 

Did they ever ask themselves? What power is? Why it exists?

 

_"It's is a trick. A shadow on the wall."_

 

Someone whispered in this very keep. And he was right. It was a trick first started by ordinary men. It's first seeds between the male and the female. Then between the strong and the weak. Between race and colour.  _Religion_. 

 

He scoffed at them. Foolish beings, he was sent to first defend them from the Song of Ice. And for once they fought well. After defending them, he was destined to return the lands to the old way. No men. No White walkers. Only the greenseers. The worshippers of the trees. The ones they named the Children of the Forest. 

 

He would take back what has always been theirs. Ruptured, fractured by these men. Tossed from one hand to another drenching it with their filthy blood. 

 

The  _game of thrones_ they revelled in would be their end. A few whispers in the right ears by the right mouths was all it would take to bring them down to their knees. But then he came across someone who had similar views. Intentions to break the wheel.

 

Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. And all of her bloody names. Humanity would have ushered in an unmatched glory under her. For him to succeed she had to lose. For Ice to freeze the lands her fire needed to die. 

 

He started to weave a web around her using some prejudices these men had along with some meanderings of his own. Sansa Stark and Tyrion Lannister. Embodiments of the game itself. One had known nothing but the game while the other had both lost everything and gained everything from it. Both of them had reached a place in their lives where neither could live without the game Daenerys wanted to end. They were the spokes on the wheel. The ones that frowned on it's horrors but benefited from the broken pieces with indifference.

 

The hostility from the North and Sansa was not what Daenerys expected but that was what she got. The raven had marvelled in their pettiness. The World was probably ending and they were discussing  _food?_ Anyway he used it to his advantage. Further distancing the two different factions. 

 

Even after fifteen years he felt the bond between the two Targaryens. It was warm and strong. Something he had never felt. It scared him to his core. However vile these humans might be they were capable of something as pure as love. He couldn't perceive it. It had to end. 

 

He knew something about the man which he didn't. The Raven searched for the connections they had. Found some age old prejudices they held against each other and found the perfect opportunity. The unchained maester had started the rift in a better way than he expected. Jon Snow stayed away from his love. The Raven fed him thoughts of disgust. Robbing him of his general knowledge of the Stark ancestry. 

 

The battle for the dawn had almost reconciled them. He took her bear. Made people talk about the Eastern men. It made her more hostile. The northmen didn't fail to disappoint. It was in them being xenophobic.  

 Still the Dragon Queen was unyielding. She refused to be consumed the taint in her blood. It seemed she had faced far more tragic losses in her life to be affected by these. The dragon blood roared inside her, Warm and powerful. Keeping him at bay.

 

So he took her advisors. The chain was started by his sister. Breaking a vow swore in the prescence of the old gods. Another sin. The Spymaster from Lys just needed to be shown a new direction to think on. He would finish the rest within the blink of an eye. He alienated the Lannister. To increase the tension in the Targaryen camp he had the Naathi captured. 

 

She didn't take the death of her friend and Dragon well. But she fought. His attempts to warg her had lead him to nothing. She was drawing hope. There was something about her he didn't know. 

 

Jon Snow finished the job for him. The inferno of hope inside her had been reduced to a candle. But it was still there. He waited. Patiently. A moment of weakness that's all he wanted. He could already influence her thoughts like he did with the others. Not long after his patience paid off.

 

On the battlements of Kings Landing. The Dragon Queen had defeated everyone. Drowned in grief her eyes traced the outlines of the ancestral city. Horrified by her power. Horrified by what men could do. She was going to climb off her dragon. Call back her armies and execute Cersei. It was then he closed his eyes. Blue Mist forming before his eyes and when he opened them he was inside Daenerys Stormborn.

 

Feeling the power beneath her legs. A power never meant to be his. It was intoxicating. He urged the Dragon and it moved flying towards the keep laying waste to the city in it's wake. 

 

_Wasn't it simple? Bringing someone so strong, larger than life to be so small and puny._

 

The wheel was broken and so was Daenerys Stormborn. And then came his favourite. The one he loved to watch play out in front of him. The Betrayal of one dragon to another. The moment all her hope fled her. When she felt certain that nothing could reverse her pain. She was a ball of grief succumbing to it more than the dagger. Her lover cradled her in his hands. He left at that point feeling victorious against the bond that scared him. 

 

The only one she had left was her son. He saw him taking her and flying away. To the east. He had tried to find Drogon and failed everytime. His ravens died at the first sign of the lands beyond the sea. It was infuriating. He had no power in the east. Everytime he made his way to Essoss he felt the flames. Like the waves of an ocean. Increasing in magnitude until he couldn't bare it and left his ravens to die.

 

The power was nearer now. Inhibiting his power in the west. It was the same blood. Snarling, challenging him to come find it. And so he did. Closing his eyes, the device behind him changed from the raven and wolf to a Lion to a Stag and finally to a three headed dragon.

 

He saw another Daenerys playing around him. Her brothers Aegon and Aemon trailing behind her. She looked at him as though she could sense her. He gestured at her to come to him. The curious princess smiled at him and came. Asking him in her childish voice about his identity. He just shrugged and bared his hand afflicted by the spirit of Winter and showed it to her. 

 

"I've never seen such colours before." her big purple eyes exagerated her excitement. He tickled her good naturedly. She giggled earning a chuckle from him. 

 

"Go on. Touch it."

 

And she did. A look of horror filled her eyes as he knew would happen. A gasp left her mouth and she ran away. The girl would die not long after. Just like her brother he had tricked.

 

The dragon screeched calling him far away from it's ancestors. They had been playing this game for days. He was both excited and terrified of it.

 

It called him North. Far away in the past. He traversed through time and space to reach it.  Winterfell appeared from a place that housed the woods of the gods. A small keep and then another. Towers struck by lightning. Burned and rebuilt a hundred times. Until the world stopped spinning and came to a halt.

 

The clash of steel against steel filled the air. It was a time he had seen once. Eddard Stark sparring with his brother Benjen. The halfwit Wylis walking through the yard. Tending to Lyanna's horse. That's where he saw it. A girl with a red bracelet on her wrist. The ruby gleaming as if bleeding. 

 

She was talking to Lyanna Stark her silver hair fanning her head. Her head whipped to his direction, she flashed him a smile. Grey eyes boring into him. When Lyanna looked away, she removed something like a dart out of her clothes and threw it.

 

Not at him.

 

_No. No it can't be._

 

The halfwit gasped for air as the people crowded against him. The raven looked at her horrified. And then at his hand which was falling apart in the northern wind like a sand dune. He could feel himself dying. A thousand screams of the greenseers left through him.

 

In a deperate attempt he returned to Brandon Stark's body. And saw her waiting. The guards at his door already dead. 

 

"Dragons die."

 

She said as her energy burned him.

 

"But so do Dragonslayers."

 

She pushed the knife that had ended the Night King into him. And he breathed his last.

 

Bran Stark tugged a sad smile on his lips. Freed from his slavery.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like/Hate pls tell me in the comments.


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